What Are You, Loki?
by Waxlin
Summary: Loki is broken out of prison a second time and assists in plan to gain Thor and Jane's souls. Tracking them on Earth, he meets people who make him question where his loyalties lie. Hope, loss, and sacrifice shape Loki into something that could be loved. Wherever Loki goes, however, betrayal is never far behind. For the God of Lies and Mischief, sadness and disaster never rests.
1. My Daughter

Loki, once again, found himself imprisoned in his gleaming cell of Asgard. He seemed to have a knack for getting caught, and although he could not complain of discomfort, he loathed the confines of his well furnished cage. His adopted father did not even have the courtesy of detaining him in a cell worthy of a true criminal. Every inch of surface area was blindingly white and pure, the furniture was covered in soft, satiny cloth, and delicious food was delivered daily to him. Loki detested the ease in which he existed, yearning for the struggle of freedom. Instead, he wasted his days in a pleasant room that smelled of the free airs beyond, in Asgard. He hated the smell above all else. He couldn't stand the intolerably pleasing scent of the clean breezes and blooming flowers.

Laying face up towards the ceiling, he reached for the book his mother had given him. It was small compared to the others that were provided for his entertainment, but it was his most prized possession. He opened it, held it close to his face, and breathed deeply. Even before his captivity, he found peace within the written word. Now, he lost himself in the pages of old tomes to forget the misery of his life. He was, of course, used to lamenting his fortunes, however. Since growing up with Thor, his value had always been second to that of Thor's in his father's eyes.

_No_, he thought. _Odin is_ _not my father. He was never my father. He never extended his kindness to me because I am not of his own flesh. I was not "worthy" of his "warm affection" because I am not his. _Loki's thin lips twisted into a grotesque, bitter smile. _Am I worthy of it now? Have I made you proud, father? _he asked an imaginary Odin in his mind.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a voice rang through the silence. Loki clenched his teeth, fighting not to jump in surprise.

"It has been a very long time, Loki," it said, echoing several times across the long corridor. To his annoyance, his heart started to beat furiously. A dread like a burning fire began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. He hated the feeling of fear and anxiety, but presently, he could not help it. _Had Odin heard his thoughts from the golden throne of Asgard? Was Odin coming to confirm his hatred of him?_

"It is truly an honor to look upon the figure of the Great Loki: Son of Laufey, brother to the God of Thunder himself. _Truly_ an honor." The tone of these words dripped with false sincerity, oozing with malicious amusement. Loki could not recognize the voice, but he knew it was not Odin's. At this realization he relaxed slightly, allowing himself to breath normally. Whoever it was, he could handle whatever they came to proclaim. Something nagged at his memory, however. There was something about this voice that felt familiar from many years ago.

"How does it feel," the voice continued, gaining momentum and volume with each new word. "To spend your days in this charming cage? As dungeons go, this one is the fairest I have ever seen. But it _does _make sense that a prince of Asgard be treated with the_highest _honor in prison, does it not?"

Loki slowly picked himself up from off the floor, gliding to his cushioned seat with as much grace and poise as a king. He suppressed the urge to clench his fists. There were very few people who could strike his nerves so quickly, if even at all. But he held his regal composure as he sunk into the plush, green chair provided to him.

"It feels lovely," he replied calmly. He took care to speak clearly, so that every word was precise. "It's as lovely as the false freedom enjoyed by the mental slaves that walk uninhibited throughout the nine realms."

At this the voice laughed. It was a cold laugh—cruel—laced with mirth and evil intent. Loki gazed into the darkness of the hallway outside of his cell, seeing nothing. His curiosity was lit now, and he wondered who would possibly come looking for him. More importantly, he wondered why this person had bothered to travel down into the cells of Asgard to seek his audience.

"Laufeyson. You speak very highly for one who is trapped in a gilded cage. If I'm not mistaken, you've been here before."

"I enjoyed it so much the first time, I couldn't bear to be away," he retorted, grinning slightly towards the direction of the figureless voice. _Where are you?_ He wondered in his head.

As if answering his query, the echo of footsteps accompanied the slow appearance of the frame of a person. When the being stopped directly before his cage, Loki dug into the confines of his memory to put an identity to the face that stared at him. Nothing came.

"If that is the case, I will leave you to your...Enjoyment," the figure sighed, sarcastically. To Loki's surprise, she was a woman of young stature, looking as if she had just come of age. Her green eyes pulsed in a face that was smooth and pale. Black hair tumbled to her waist. She wore a long black cloak that seemed to disappear into the shadows, and a black mask that covered the top half of her face. Her eyes sparkled with a familiar mischief that he could not quite place. "But I was rather hoping you would want to exact revenge," she continued, "on a certain god that put you into this pretty cage a second time. The god with the mortal pet on Midgard. And who could forget to bring down the Allfather who cast you away like a worthless tool? Odin used you to feed his amusement, then threw you in a cell. He deserves a taste of the wrath of Loki."

Outwardly, Loki was perfectly serene. His expression was a picture of neutrality as he gazed upon her. However, inside the contents of his thoughts, he snarled furiously at the mysterious woman. He knew full well that she attempted to manipulate him with her words, and he was insulted that she believed it would be so easy. He is Loki, of Asgard, and he would not be exploited by this foolish child.

"They are of no concern to me in here," he informed her casually. "Many people have wronged me in my life, they are no more special than the others." The woman cocked her head.

"Then help me, O mighty Loki, in claiming what is mine."

Ah. She sought him here for a favor.

"And what is it," Loki hissed, "that you intend to claim?" A long smile slithered across her dark lips. There was something off—putting about this woman. It was as if the body of a young maiden had been possessed by a devilish, ancient demon. Her arrogant demeanor of an immortal fit ill with her youth.

"The souls of Thor and his mortal pet. I am told that you know the human Jane Foster." Loki nodded, feigning calm despite his peeked interest.

"What use are the souls of Thor and Jane Foster to you?" he inquired.

Her voice suddenly took on the chorus of thousands of people speaking as one, and her eyes burned like the fiery flames of Niffleheim. Her intonation turned icy cold with amusement.

"_**I am Hela, of Jotunheim**_," she bowed deeply towards Loki. When she rose, a mischievous grin twisted her face hideously. Shadows whirled around her like a raging storm. "_**And I am the Goddess of Death. Their souls belong to me**__." _

Instantly, a jolt stabbed into Loki's heart. It was with that statement that he realized who this girl truly was to him—and his breath caught in his lungs. Despite all his practiced composure, he could not help but inhale sharply in a gasp. He gripped the arms of his chair to keep from falling out of his seat. Within him, recognition exploded in disbelief and trauma.

"You are Hela?" he breathed sharply. He struggled to focus, his vision becoming blurry with shock. _It cannot be... It cannot be... This cannot be true! It is _not _true! _"You are Hela...You are my..."

"Daughter."

Silence gripped him.

"My daughter..."

Loki could not believe his ears. His mind flat-lined and his thoughts halted. He, the God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, could not understand the emotions that coursed beneath his skin. How was he to react to this news? His daughter... He knew, of course, that she existed, but he had never bothered to seek her out. She was not his concern. And yet, here she was before him.

His daughter.

"Hela," he croaked. He hated that he was so weak in this moment. He wished that he could brush off this information like it was nothing. But it wasn't nothing. _This_ was his daughter. "Why do you come for me? Can you not find them on your own?"

"They are elusive, Loki, and I grow tired of chasing after them. Bring me to them, show me their secrets, and I will reward you. First, with your freedom, for which only I can grant." At this, Loki scoffed.

"Freedom, dear Hela, is an illusion. It does not exist."

"Then after, with the revenge you pretend you do not want. There are things only I can grant you. Do what I ask, and I will acquire whatever it is you long for most."

Loki considered his options briefly. It was petty, he knew, to pretend to think while his mind was already made, but sometimes he liked to indulge his childish urges. He suspected that she knew of his intentions, but he sat, "thinking," none the less. After a moment, he stood, bringing himself to his full height. He was pleased to see that she was considerably shorter than he.

"I accept your offer, Hela of Jotunheim. But do not be falsely led in thinking that I trust you. I do not." She nodded her head and smiled. Her lips curled at the edges in such a way that mocked the gesture.

"I do not expect you to trust me," she replied in a tone that reeked with triumph. "I only expect you to need me. Which you do."

She stepped towards the glass, and then through it. As she passed the magically enforced barrier, she transformed into a skeleton before Loki's eyes. Her empty eye sockets stared into him, as if laughing at his living flesh. Once inside, she threw her black cloak over him, shrouding him in the embrace of death. Underneath the cloak, his tiny flame of life flickered and threatened to go out before reaffirming its existence. While she pulled him through the walls, Loki felt the cold grip and scorching heat of his ultimate mortality. It seemed like an eternity before she lifted the cloak from over him, and when he tasted the air again, he fought to contain a sigh of relief.

"Ah, it is good to be back in Asgard," he hummed.

"It is a pleasure I have long forsaken," Hela replied. Now that he stood so close to her, Loki's features within her were undeniable. His green eyes, above all, shone with a deviousness that could only be equaled by his true kin. Hers were exactly the same. He did not know how to feel about this revelation, but he knew that it was not pleasant to meet her so unexpectedly. His other children, Fenrir and Jormungandr, were deemed monsters of chaos along side Hela, but he was not sure that they deserved the title. Hela, no doubt, was more than met the eye. He would have to be wary of her.

"Goddess of Death," he begin. She raised her eyebrows and waited patiently for him to continue. "I am Loki, brother of Thor and Prince of Asgard. I am your father, but do not believe that you can win my love."

"Worry not, Loki," she replied with a coolness that almost made him regret what he had said. Almost. "I do not seek what cannot be obtained."

With that, she turned on her heels and led him away from the prison. Their next destination, of course, would be Midgard. As they walked in silence, Loki wondered what the future held for him. His skin tingled with the anticipation of exacting his revenge upon Thor and his human pet. The time was coming for his revival as ruler of Midgard. However, glancing at Hela as he moved, he contemplated what evil trickery she had up her sleeves. She would truly be a dangerous variable in his equation for power. She was his daughter, after all. Dangerous indeed.


	2. God of Lies

"This creature serves _no _purpose," Loki growled as Hela thrust a struggling puppy into his arms. It squirmed and barked happily, rubbing its small black body against his chest with glee. Disgust rose from the pit of his stomach. How had he come to this? In what world did a _god _cradle a slobbering brute like a servant? He had half a mind to allow it to wriggle from his grasp and let it fall to the floor. Holding it out to Hela, he tried to give it back, but she disappeared in a puff of smoke only to reappear behind him an instant later.

"It is a peace offering, Loki," she explained with devilish countenance. "It seems our dear Thor has neglected the mortal Jane Foster. We cannot simply expect to enter her home and receive warm greetings after so many years of absence! An apology must be delivered. Trust must be made. This is the first step to their demise."

"Do not lecture me on the art of deception," Loki snapped. "I am the _god_ of deception. The god! And I say that this _useless_ animal is not needed." It was ridiculous, standing at the heart of a pet store dressed in a beautifully tailored suit—holding a fiendish mass of animal. Every second he spent wrestling with this worthless beast was time wasted from the true task at hand. He was above this. What was the use of attempting to blend in when he and Hela currently looked so out of place? Even wearing Midgardian garb, the two gods stood out among the humans. Perhaps they were overdressed, perhaps they spoke too eloquently, or perhaps it was his disdain for the writhing pup in his hands that tipped the mortals off. Whatever the reason, he and Hela were drawing too much attention to themselves, and they needed to vanish quickly.

"You do not understand women half as well as you believe you do," Hela teased. She wore a suit of her own: her black cloak disguised as an exquisitely tailored Fioravanti. Though gifted with a youthful face, she held herself with the elegance of a woman twice her age. Together, they looked as if two wealthy bankers had stepped off of Wall street and into a PetCo. "Do you really think she would not slap you again? It is almost too vile to comprehend, Loki, that you would come into her home without so much as a token of sorry conscience."

"Fine, we shall take the creature," he muttered, noticing two teenage girls staring at him from across the store. Their eyes were wide with wonder, and one gestured to the other as Loki met their gaze. "We are too exposed here," he whispered to Hela under his breath. He could not stand to be beheld by such lowly eyes without so much as a glimpse of fear in their expressions. Turning to hold out his hand to the Death Goddess, so that they be transported to Jane's house, Loki was surprised to see Hela frowning at him. "What is it now?" he snarled.

"You have no paid the seller," Hela replied evenly.

"What matter is it to us?"

"We will be recognized as thieves. We must act as normally as possible so as to not upset the still waters of their minds." Loki clenched his teeth. This was pointless.

"As you wish, dear Hela," he acquiesced after a moment. They waited in line behind several mortals who looked as brainless as boulders. Loki stood rigidly beside the goddess, who seemed perfectly at ease among the filthy humans. The puppy had now settled into the crook of Loki's arm, panting joyfully up at his raven haired bearer. Although Loki wished it would disappear, his grip was gentle as to not hurt it. He would never let anyone know, but he held a warmer heart for beasts who could not harm him. This particular pup was an dangerous as a flower.

When they reached the register they paid for the animal, and headed on their way. The two argued over the mode of transportation before Hela insisted on grabbing a taxi, so the two sat in silence while the streets of Midgard filled his mind. Jane Foster, Thor's mortal love, was minutes away. Loki's lips tingled with the anticipation of exacting his revenge on his brother. Oh yes, the revenge would taste so sweet.


End file.
